


The Headmistress

by Blackboard_Monitor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cursed Child never happened, Fix-It, Gen, More tags to be added, Post-Canon, neither did the epilogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackboard_Monitor/pseuds/Blackboard_Monitor
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts Neila Shah decided to get a Muggle degree in education and social psychology. She is appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts by Hermione Granger, the youngest Minister for Magic in history, and she makes it her mission to turn the school from a bizarre and archaic disaster of an institution into an actually functioning school. Spoiler alert: her plan does not include sorting children into groups based on their personality, or sending them to the Murder Forest as a punishment. She will, however, need to hire a new DADA teacher, and one of the applicants is quite the celebrity...(Side note, this is compliant with the two other Drarry-themed fics I've published, if you're into that.)





	1. The Appointment

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a finished work, I'm posting it as I go, and I can't promise anything about how frequently I can update. Hope you enjoy nonetheless! :)

I knock on the door and try to swallow my nerves. It’s not that I’m particularly concerned about my performance – I’m a professional and I know what I’m doing – but this is Hermione Granger we’re talking about. Save for Harry Potter himself, you would be pressed to name a more well-known figure in wizarding Britain. And now she’s the Minister for Magic.

 

“Come in,” calls a dispassionate voice from within.

 

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but Minister Granger’s office is not it. I suppose I somehow expected someone who rose to the highest position in the Ministry before their thirtieth birthday to be as organised as they are efficient. But this office looks like a bomb went off. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, stuffed so full of books that they appear to be bursting at the seams. Every vertical surface is filled with yet more books, along with countless scrolls of parchment and a varied assortment of office supplies both magical and Muggle.

 

Amidst it all is Granger herself and I’m momentarily taken aback by how little she has changed since Hogwarts. Her hair is a bushy and wild as ever, her style professional but nondescript, her expression serious but not entirely unfriendly. She rises out of her chair and circles her desk to shake my hand.

 

“Ms Shah, thank you for coming.” She smiles, briefly, but doesn’t quite meet my eye.

 

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure, Minister,” I say as we take our seats on opposite sides of the desk.

 

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” says Granger. She glances down at one of the many open scrolls on her desk. “You were in Hogwarts a year behind me, correct?”

 

“I was. I was there for most of it, the Chamber, the Tournament, the Battle.”

 

“Ravenclaw?”

 

“Yes. Not that it matters.”

 

Granger frowns slightly. “Of course,” she says, seeming more distracted than displeased.

 

“I know you’re a busy woman, Minister, so I’m not going to beat around the bush,” I say, crossing my legs and leaning back in my chair. “I assume you haven’t announced my appointment yet.”

 

“I haven’t,” says Granger. “I’m sure you know as well as I that it isn’t going to go over well among the more… conservative factions of this institution.”

 

I nod. “I can imagine.”

 

“Thankfully I have Draco on my side. A lot of the traditionalists are flocking behind him, despite him representing very few of the old values. You know how purebloods are; they’re comforted by the name, I expect.”

 

As far as I’m aware, Draco Malfoy holds a prominent position in the Department of Foreign Affairs. It has little to do with any of this, but I suppose in the Ministry things are less about departments and more about who is chummy with whom. I’m under the impression that this is something Granger is aspiring to change. Corruption is a new term in the wizarding world, not because it hasn’t existed, but rather because it has been the norm. I imagine being an advocate for reform while trying to get ahead in this political climate can be quite the balancing act. I don’t envy Granger for the compromises she no doubt has had to make.

 

“Is it true that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are…?” I blurt without thinking. I bite down on my tongue before I can finish the sentence. That was dumb.

 

Granger appears to reflect my thoughts; her jaw tightens. “I don’t think that’s any of anyone’s business,” she says sharply.

 

“You’re right,” I say quickly. “I apologise. It’s hard to remember sometimes that all of you are people and not just celebrities.”

 

Granger sighs. For a moment she looks very tired. “I know. I don’t blame you. Merlin knows it’s easy enough to get lost in it ourselves.”

 

I decide it’s my job to get the conversation back on track, considering I’m the one who derailed it. “Have you spoken with Professor McGonagall?”

 

“Yes. She was apprehensive about your background at first, but I believe she trusts my judgement and she is more than happy to return to teaching. I don’t expect her to retire any time soon, but she seems to agree that the position of headmistress would be better filled by someone younger.”

 

“About that,” I say. “How would you feel about principal instead of headmistress?”

 

Granger raises her eyebrows. “Principal? Isn’t that a little… American?”

 

“I know, I know,” I say with a sigh. “It’s not very British, but the fact remains that this is not a position that I believe needs to be gendered, and since a gender-neutral term already exists, why not use it?”

 

Granger doesn’t seem convinced. “I’ll think about it. I think it might be best to try not to rock the boat more than we need to.”

 

It was a long shot, but I’m glad the idea is out there, at least. “Of course, it’s hardly a priority.”

 

“Professor McGonagall suggested you start in July, at the start of the summer holiday. That way you’ll have time to settle in and prepare for the new semester while the students are away,” Granger explains.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

Granger shuffles the paperwork on her desk until she comes up with a familiar-looking stack, the agenda I sent her last week, the Muggle printer paper stark white against yellowed parchment. She thumbs the pages thoughtfully, and says, half to herself, “I just don’t understand why we need to be writing on animal skins when the Muggles have computers, and, and… iPods.”

 

“Tell me about it,” I say enthusiastically. “That’s exactly the kind of thinking I want to bring to Hogwarts.”

 

Granger smiles. “Which is why I’m appointing you. It’s time that disaster of a school was shaken up a little. Can you believe no one saw any fault in the house system? After everything that happened with Voldemort? After the Battle?”

 

Involuntarily, I think of the Great Hall, of the rows and rows of dead bodies, of all the faces that I wish I didn’t recognise. “They weren’t there,” I say quietly, “the Ministry people, the people who went back to business as usual as soon as the dust settled. They weren’t there.”

 

Granger nods solemnly. “But we were. And you and I are both in a privileged position. We were raised by Muggles. We can see how broken the wizarding world is because we know it’s not the only world. There are better things out there than this. Functional governments. Civil rights. Justice systems that don’t rely on mob mentality. Goddamn _democracy_.”

 

“Schools that don’t send children into the Murder Forest as punishment,” I chime in.

 

“Exactly,” says Granger with a laugh. “Although I think stories of the deadliness of the Forbidden Forest have been largely exaggerated.”

 

“Really? Because I heard that Mr Potter literally died in there.”

 

Granger purses her lips thoughtfully. “You’ve got me there,” she says. “But at least it didn’t stick. In any case, I commend you for having the insight of getting a Muggle education. What was it, London Metropolitan?”

 

“Yes, bachelor’s in education, master’s in social psychology,” I confirm.

 

“I’m quite sure that makes you the singlehandedly most qualified headmistress Hogwarts has ever had,” says Granger.

 

“Not exactly a difficult feat, considering the current qualifications for Hogwarts staff are what, exactly?”

 

“That’s the thing,” Granger says. “There aren’t any. Which is abundantly clear when you look at Albus Dumbledore’s hires, ranging from mildly incompetent to downright sadistic.”

 

“Which brings me to my next point,” I say. “I’m going to have to make some terminations.”

 

“I believe some of the worse ones are dead,” says Granger, “but either way, you won’t hear any objections from me.”

 

“That’s all I want to hear, Minister.”

 

“I feel like you and I will be working quite closely together for the foreseeable future, Ms Shah. Call me Hermione.”

 

“Really?” I’m a little taken aback. This nomination is already like a dream come true. I hardly expected it would also land me in first name terms with the Minister for Magic. I recover quickly, because if I was this easily befuddled, I would certainly be the wrong person for the job. “In that case, please drop the Ms Shah. It’s Neila.”

 

“Well, Neila,” says Hermione, “I’m going to be announcing your appointment in the next few days. I recommend you prepare yourself for a lot of press, no doubt most of it bad.”

 

“Oh,” I reply nonchalantly, “they’ll never find me. They won’t even know where to look. I live in a Muggle apartment in a Muggle neighbourhood.”

 

Hermione grins. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very productive partnership, Neila.”

 

I return her smile. “As do I, Hermione.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna apologise for taking so long to update because then I'll be stuck doing that every time. I update when I update and everyone's just gonna have to live with that because I have a master's thesis to write :D

I leave in July, as Hermione and I agreed, so that I will have all summer to prepare the school and staff for what is to be the greatest change in regime in Hogwarts history.

 

I Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk the rest of the way. The train always seemed like a colossal waste of time to me. We are witches and wizards, after all. We have access to several different modes of teleportation. Which calls into question, really, why Hogwarts needs to be a boarding school in the first place. It would be almost ridiculously easy for students to make the commute via Floo powder from all over the country – the world, even. Just one of the things about this school that could be vastly improved if only we gave up the mentality that we need to continue traditions that began in the Middle Ages. Just because something is old doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good. Muggles have managed to piece that together, so I don’t see why the wizarding world can’t.

 

I pass through the gates and the Hogwarts grounds come into view. I wish I could say I feel a warm wave of nostalgia at the sight of it, but my schooling here was more horror and constant dread than anything you could call an education. And that’s not even counting the Battle. My fingers find their way to the scar on my thigh, a reminder of all the friends I lost, and how close I came to death myself. Hogwarts is not a happy place. But maybe I can change that.

 

Professor McGonagall greets me at the main entrance.

 

“Ms Shah.” We shake hands. She looks older, much older, than she did, but her grip is strong. “It has been a long time.”

 

“I don’t expect you to remember me, Professor,” I say as we enter the castle.

 

“Why, of course I remember you. You were quite adept in my class, as I recall,” Professor McGonagall replies.

 

“Well,” I say drily, “you were one of few competent teachers.”

 

An inscrutable look passes over her face. “I think you are going to have quite a difficult time for quite a while, Ms Shah,” she says cryptically.

 

“I expect no less. Things worth doing are rarely easy.”

 

I haven’t actually ever been to the headmaster’s – or principal’s, as I’m privately calling it – office before. You had to be either in some very serious trouble or Harry Potter to warrant that kind of visit, and I was neither. The secret passage, password and all, are very on-brand, however, and the office itself is pretty much what I had expected. Rows of former headmasters look down at me from the walls. One of them whispers, quite loudly, “What the hell is she _wearing_?”

 

Right, of course. My wardrobe doesn’t exactly fit in in this environment. While I have to admit that robes and cloaks have a certain aesthetic appeal to them, I’ve opted for something a little more practical: a navy blue pantsuit. I’m not at all sure that some of the portraits in this room have ever seen a pair of pants before. That’s wizard fashion for you.

 

“I will be reclaiming my old office from before the Battle, if that’s all right with you,” says Professor McGonagall.

 

“Yes, of course, whatever you need.” As much as I have prepared for this job, it does feel profoundly surreal that I’m going to be McGonagall’s boss. This incredible, iron-willed woman, who survived Albus Dumbledore and the Battle, who has seen me grow up from a tiny 11-year-old twig, is going to be working for me.

 

“If I may,” she says now, “what are your plans for the coming days?”

 

“I’m going to get settled in, go over some paperwork and records, and then call a staff meeting as soon as I can, to introduce myself and the plans I have for the school,” I explain.

 

McGonagall nods solemnly. “It’s been too long since anything changed here,” she says. “I do hope you manage to do what so many have failed at.”

 

The first few days go by in a blur. There are bags to unpack, teachers and other staff to meet, mountains of school records to wade through, and a million arrangements to be made. One of the very first things I do, however, is have a phone installed in my office. Then I call the Minister.

 

“Granger.”

 

“Hello, Hermione.” I can’t help it, I’m grinning.

 

She immediately sounds concerned. “Neila? Is that you? Where are you calling from? Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts? Is something wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say quickly. “And I’m calling from my new office. In Hogwarts.”

 

There is a short moment of stunned silence, during which all I can here is slight crackling on the line. Then Hermione says, “But… technology doesn’t–“

 

“Work in Hogwarts,” I fill in. “I know. Except that as it turns out, what that really means is ‘we can’t be bothered to find out whether or not we can get Muggle technology to work in Hogwarts because we don’t think Muggles have ever come up with anything worthwhile’.”

 

“Honestly,” Hermione says after another pause, “I’m a little miffed that I never realised that.”

 

“In all fairness, you did have a lot on your mind while you were here,” I point out. “What with defeating Voldemort and all that.”

 

“Technically that was Harry.”

 

“Everyone knows he couldn’t have done it on his own.”

 

Hermione laughs. “He really, really, couldn’t have. Between you and me–” she lowers her voice “–sometimes he’s really very stupid.”

 

I feign a gasp. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll go to Skeeter?”

 

“Skeeter?” echoes Hermione. “That old bag? Don’t worry, she’s far too terrified of me to write anything I wouldn’t approve of.”

 

I think back to all the news stories of recent years, the wild speculations regarding Harry Potter’s personal life, and decide that either Hermione doesn’t care all that much of what is said about her friend, or she isn’t paying a lot of attention.

 

“Well,” prompts Hermione, “how did you manage it? The phone?”

 

I can’t help but grin as I switch the receiver to my other ear. “Do you remember Dennis Creevey?”

 

There’s a sudden tightness in Hermione’s voice when she replies, “I remember his brother.”

 

And isn’t that just the way of things? My whole generation of witches and wizards, never safe, even in the most casual of conversations, from the darkness of our shared past. Colin was a good kid, with his camera and his stupid grin, and he shouldn’t have had to die. Nothing I can say to reconcile that, nothing to do but push forward.

 

“Dennis has an engineering degree now,” I explain. “He’s come up with a lot of clever ways to magically augment Muggle technology. In the two hours he was here, he must have told me a dozen times that he thinks it’s time for the wizarding world to be brought to the twenty-first century. I think he’ll be setting up magic Facebook before we know it.”

 

“I pray I don’t live to see that day,” mutters Hermione. “Although the other stuff sounds useful. I may have to give Mr Creevey a call.”

 

“I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

 

“Moving on. Did you need something, or did you just call to gloat?” asks Hermione. I’ve talked to her enough times now to pick up on her tone, and know that despite appearances, it isn’t actually hostile.

 

I absentmindedly straighten the stack of paperwork on my desk. “Why can’t it be both?”

 

“I’m a busy woman, Neila.”

 

“Fine, fine. I did have a request.”

 

Hermione sighs. “I miss when I wasn’t Minister and people talked to me even when they didn’t want something of me.”

 

“Must be terrible being the most powerful person in the wizarding world,” I agree. “Anyway. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position is open.”

 

“You say that like it’s news,” says Hermione.

 

“You didn’t let me finish,” I protest. “I’ve been going over the applications and there’s one I wanted to talk to you about. I think he would be terrific fit, but I don’t know him personally, so I thought I’d ask what you think. Besides, he’s listed you as a reference.”

 

Hermione makes a delighted sound, which honestly isn’t very ministerly. “I didn’t know he actually applied! Oh, this is going to be so wonderful. I can’t wait to tell Ron.”

 

“I’m going to take that as an endorsement,” I say, smiling.


End file.
